River’s End

build and appearance of impossible fitness of an elderly out-doorsman. Rob MacBride, Noah thought, and decided that lingering over coffee and rain watching had been the perfect way to spend his morning.
    He sat back and waited for his turn.
    It didn’t take long for Rob to complete the circuit and pause by Noah’s table with a quick grin. “Pretty day, isn’t it?”
    “For ducks.” Noah said, since it seemed expected. He was rewarded with that deep, barking laugh.
    “Rain’s what makes us what we are here. I hope you’re enjoying your stay.”
    “Very much. It’s a great place. You’ve made a few changes since I was here last, but you’ve kept the tone.”
    “So, you’ve stayed with us before.”
    “A long time ago.” Noah held out his hand. “I’m Noah Brady, Mr. MacBride.”
    “Welcome back.”
    He watched for it, but saw no hint of recognition in Rob’s eyes. “Thanks. I came here with my parents, about twelve years ago. Frank and Celia Brady.”
    “We’re always pleased to have the next generation . . .” The recognition came now, and along with it quiet grief. “Frank Brady? Your father?”
    “Yes.”
    Rob stared out the window at the rain. “That’s a name I haven’t thought of in a long time. A very long time.”
    “If you’ll sit down, Mr. MacBride, I’ll tell you why I’m here.”
    Rob shifted his gaze back, glanced at Noah’s face. “I guess that’s the thing to do, isn’t it? Hailey?” he called out to the waitress just clearing another station. “Could you get us some coffee over here?”
    He sat, laid his long, thin hands on the table. They showed the age, Noah noted; his face didn’t. There was always some part of you, he mused, that was marked with time.
    “Your father’s well?”
    “Yeah, he’s good. Retired recently, drove my mother crazy for a while, then found something to keep himself busy and out of her hair.”
    Rob nodded, grateful Noah had slipped into small talk. He found it kind. “Man doesn’t keep busy, he gets old fast. The lodge, the campground, the people who come and go here, that’s what keeps me young. Got managers and such doing a lot of the day-to-day work now, but I still keep my hand in.”
    “It’s a place to be proud of. I’ve felt at home since I walked in the door.” Except for one small incident with your granddaughter, Noah thought, but decided it wouldn’t be politic to mention it.
    “I’ll top that off, Mr. Brady,” Hailey said, then poured a cup for Rob.
    “So did you go into police work like your dad?” he questioned.
    “No. I’m a writer.”
    “Really.” Rob’s face brightened. “Nothing like a good story. What sort of things do you write?”
    “I write nonfiction. True crime.” He waited a beat as he could already see the awareness moving over Rob’s face. “I’m writing a book about what happened to your daughter.”
    Rob lifted his cup, sipped slowly. When he spoke it wasn’t anger in his voice, but weariness. “Over twenty years now. Hasn’t everything been said already?”
    “I don’t think so. I’ve had an interest in what happened since I was a kid. My father’s connection, how it affected him made an impression on me.”
    He paused, weighed his words, then decided to be as honest as he was able. “I think, on some level, I’d always planned to write about it. I didn’t know how I’d approach it, but I knew when the time came, I’d write it. The time came a few weeks ago when Sam Tanner contacted me.”
    “Tanner. Why won’t he let her rest?”
    “He wants to tell his story.”
    “And you think he’ll tell you the truth?” Bitterness crackled in his voice like ice. “You think the man who murdered my daughter, who sliced her to ribbons, is capable of telling the truth?”
    “I can’t say, but I can tell you I’m capable of separating truth from lies. I don’t intend for this book to be Tanner’s. I don’t intend for what I write to be simply his view noted down on paper. I’m going to talk to everyone who was touched or involved. I’ve already begun to. That’s why I’m here, Mr. MacBride, to understand and incorporate your view.”
    “Julie was one of the brightest lights of my life, and he snuffed her out. He took her love, twisted it into a weapon and destroyed her with it. What other view could I possibly have?”
    “You knew her in a way no one else could. You know them in a way no one else could. That’s what matters.”
    Rob lifted his hands, rubbed them